


Incident of the Winning Pair

by Elfbert



Category: Rawhide (TV)
Genre: First Times, Fluff, M/M, PWP, Strip Poker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-21 02:49:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11934753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elfbert/pseuds/Elfbert
Summary: A game of strip poker is, Gil Favor reflects, a truly appalling idea.Right up until it isn't.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to everyone who encourages such endeavours. You know who you are. And thanks to J, for making sure I didn't mess up the poker.

They’d only been playing for about half an hour, Gil reflected. That was how fast everything on this drive could go from completely normal, to…well, this. And once again, it was essentially Rowdy’s fault.

They were on their third bottle of cheap rye, Mushy was already swaying and dropping his cards, despite only being allowed half a glass, and even that had been watered down. Wishbone was giving him ten kinds of dirty looks from his position by the chuck wagon, and Rowdy was topless.

He flicked the cards out to each man smoothly, before squaring the deck in front of him. He removed his cigarette from his mouth.

“Pete?”

There was a pause as Pete shuffled through his hand. “Two,” he finally responded, throwing the discarded cards down.

Gil slid two cards to him.

“Quince?”

Quince chewed his lip for a moment. Then shook his head. “Three.”

He dispatched the cards across the crate.

“Joe?”

“Two,” Joe said, resolutely.

“Mushy?” Gil raised an eyebrow as Mushy fumbled with his cards, dropping a few as he tried to pull the ones he no longer wanted free.

“Uh….four, I guess, Mister Favor?”

Gil sighed and slid the four cards to him.

“Rowdy?”

Rowdy was frowning. That boy did not have a poker face.

He moved a few cards. Then pulled two out. Then put one back and took another. Then went back to the first again.

Gil sighed.

“Three.”

Gil quickly checked his own cards, removing one and turning up a new one for himself.

“Pete?”

“Two pair,” Pete grinned as he fanned his cards out on the crate.

“Quince?”

Quince looked a little worried. He was already down his hat and bandana.

“Pair.”

“Joe?”

“Two pair,” Joe smiled, nudging Quince in the ribs.

“Mushy?”

“Uh….they’re all the same?” Mushy offered the hand to the light of the lamp on the table.

“Flush for Mushy,” Gil raised his eyebrows. “’S best hand yet, Mushy,” he explained.

Mushy smiled.

“Rowdy?”

Rowdy chewed his lip.

“Uh…pair,” he put them down.

Quince leaned in, then smiled. “Pair of twos? That’ll do,” he grinned, tapping his finger on his own pair of eights.

Gil took in a deep breath.

“Three of a kind,” he showed his own cards. “Rowdy loses.”

Rowdy grimaced. Then lifted his foot to wrestle one of his boots off.

“Boots is one,” Pete said.

“A boot is one,” Rowdy replied.

“Oh no, boots is one, for sure,” Joe backed Pete up.

“Since when is boots one? Boots is always two!”

Gil just shook his head, gathered up the cards, shuffled them quickly and passed them to Pete.

“If chaps is one, boots is one,” Joe said.

“Chaps is one ‘cause they’re one thing!” Rowdy argued.

“No they ain’t…” Pete began.

Wishbone stepped in. “Boots is two. One boot, one thing. Boots is two, always has been. Socks is one, chaps is one.”

For some reason, everyone went along with Wishbone’s decree without further argument, despite the seemingly obvious lack of logic.

Gil watched as Mushy put on Rowdy’s vest. “Errr…Mushy… you know this game is…strip poker, right?”

Mushy nodded, eyes wide.

“Only…you seem t be wearin’ more now than when we started.”

Mushy nodded again. “Well yes, Sir, I am. I won. Stands to reason, you win, you put somethin’ on, I mean, if you lose an’ you take somethin’ off. Otherwise…what’d be the point in winnin’?”

Gil wiped his hand over his face, and took another drink. He had no desire to see any of his men without any clothes, so didn’t argue. Well. He took a little sideways glance. Pretty much no desire. Apart from one. Maybe.

 

Pete dealt efficiently, but lost the hand. He removed a boot too, obviously deciding he’d remain as fully clothed as possible. Unlike Rowdy, who’d virtually jumped at the chance to get his shirt off.

Rowdy lost again the next round, removing his other boot, then Quince did, then the game slowed as Mushy became dealer, and managed to be even worse at it than usual.

Gil watched Rowdy’s face. He was pretty sure Rowdy had another terrible hand.

He was right, and Rowdy removed his chaps.

 

By the time Rowdy was sitting next to him wearing just his long johns, thigh sometimes nudging against Gil’s own, Gil was feeling distinctly warm.

The next hand he discarded three of a kind, replacing them with rubbish, and lost. He removed his vest. He could have just taken it off anyway - but he didn’t want anyone to think that the proximity of a half-naked trail hand was having that sort of effect on him.

He made a concerted effort to lose a few more hands, but somehow Rowdy still managed to be a worse poker player than he was.

Rowdy stood, hands slipping into the waistband of his long johns.

“Hey,” Gil said, recoiling slightly as he found himself within a few inches of Rowdy’s apparently soon-to-naked behind. “Ain’t you forgettin’ something?”

Rowdy turned and frowned at him in question.

Gil pointed up to his own hat.

Rowdy’s hat was still firmly on his head, stampede strings dangling down apparently just to draw attention to his nipples, as far as Gil could tell.

“Oh,” Rowdy gave his usual lop-sided grin. The one that melted the hearts of girls in every town they visited. And maybe a certain trail boss who should know better.

“No, I jus’…figure I’d rather keep my hat.”

And that was that. Rowdy was naked, except for his hat, and his muscular butt was far, far too close to Gil’s face as he bent over to free his feet from his underwear.

Gil drank his entire glass of whiskey in one swallow, refilled it, and lit another cigarette.

His ramrod would be the death of him, he was sure. This whole game had been a stupid idea. Rowdy’s stupid idea, as it happened. Good grazing and being ahead of time meant they decided to lay over a few days - but the nearest town was too far away for a visit, so they had to make their own entertainment.

Entertainment that was proving very….inconvenient.

Gil shifted on the box he was sitting on, wishing his pants weren’t quite as snug.

 

He had a full house straight from the deal. He threw three of the cards away, losing the hand and his bandana. He dropped it into his lap as he removed it. The night might have been dark, but there was no reason to risk anyone seeing just how difficult to concentrate Rowdy was making things.

The man seemed to have no shame at all. He was a good looking boy, and had been told so by enough people that he apparently didn’t have any worries about being butt naked in front of a camp full of drovers.

A few more hands left Quince with no shirt, Joe just down to his pants and shirt, Pete barefoot, but still with bandana, chaps, pants and shirt, and Mushy was finally back to the number of clothes he’d started with.

Gil had just lost his boot, when Rowdy finally lost again.

 

Pete laughed as Rowdy finally threw down his hat.

“Maybe this’ll teach you not to play with the grown ups,” he said, ducking as Rowdy threw a cork at him.

“Right, well, unless any of the rest of you got a urge to join Rowdy, we can call it a night?” Gil said, studiously shuffling the cards and absolutely not looking at the thigh that was pressing against his own. Well muscled from all the riding they did, with just a dusting of light hairs. Not that he’d noticed.

Everyone agreed, finishing drinks and gathering up clothing, pulling on shirts and re-tying bandanas.

Gil handed the cards back to Quince and stood himself, stretching out his back, then feeling his eyes widen slightly as Rowdy did the same, stretching up, hips tilted forward as he arched his back.

“For the ever lovin’… put some damn clothes on!” His voice came out a little higher than he would have liked.

Rowdy looked at him, wide eyed and innocent. Even though it was dark Gil could swear Rowdy’s eyes flicked downward, and then a small smile appeared on his lips. “Sure thing, Boss,” he drawled.

Then he turned, bent over, and began retrieving clothing.

Gil almost choked.


	2. Chapter 2

A week or so later Gil decided to ride on ahead to check a possible shortcut with Rowdy.

They rode away from the herd, and about fifteen miles up the took a fork to one side of a small range of hills.

“Map says it should be good goin’,” Gil explained. “But last time I heard of someone come this way, the pass was blocked. If it ain’t though, there’s a lake of sweet water, ‘bout eight mile up.”

Rowdy nodded. It was always a risk - trails being blocked by flooded rivers, fallen rocks or, these days, wire.

The going was good, and although there were signs of rock falls and landslips, none of them seemed recent - plants had already reclaimed the misshapen earth, and small shrubs and bushes stuck out from between rocks.

The lake was beautiful. Large and clean, with rocks to one side and a smooth beach-like area to the other.

“May as well camp over,” Gil announced. “We’ll still be back in plenty of time tomorrow to let ‘em know to bend West at that fork.”

Rowdy set about gathering wood for a fire, whilst Gil gave the horses a rub down, and led them down to the lake to drink before hitching them to a tree.

 

Once the coffee pot was settled in the flames, Rowdy stretched out. The sun was still warm on his skin, and he closed his eyes, glad to relax.

He heard Gil throwing out his own bedroll, and the dull ‘thump’ of something hitting the ground. He cracked open an eye.

Gil had removed his gun belt, chaps and vest, and was now busy pulling off a boot.

Rowdy sat up, suddenly.

“Hey, can you teach me to play poker - I mean…play better,” he grinned.

Gil finished pulling of one boot and started on the other. “Just don’t play,” he said, unhelpfully. “That’s the only way to keep hold of your money.”

Rowdy frowned. “You never seem to lose much.”

“I don’t play much, is why,” Gil answered.

“No, but when you do…I ain’t never seen you lose, actually.”

Gil sighed. “You know how to play. Jus’…stop chasin’ the pot every damn time. Sometimes you gotta fold. ’S just how it goes.”

Rowdy pulled a pack of cards from his saddlebag and began dealing.

Gil sighed, but moved to face Rowdy, crossing his legs and checking his cards.

“So?” Rowdy asked.

“Two,” Gil answered, discarding the cards.

“Why?” Rowdy reached for the discarded cards.

“Uh uh, you do yours, then we’ll talk it through,” Gil’s hand closed on Rowdy’s wrist.

Rowdy nodded, and changed out three of his cards.

Gil’s pair won the hand.

“See,” Gil flipped over his cards. “Kept the pair, hoped to build on it. It didn’t work out, but…might still have won, the other night. Let’s see yours.”

Rowdy held his hand down. He’d had a pair - which would have beaten Gil’s, but discarded one of them in the hope of getting a flush.

“So you should’ve kept the pair. Don’t…’specially playin’ like this, you ain’t playin’ to win, you’re playin’ not to lose.”

Rowdy nodded, and removed his vest.

Gil shook his head.

“Well, figure you’ve give me a head start anyway,” Rowdy grinned, gesturing to Gil’s pile of belongings.

Gil looked down at himself. Pants, underwear, socks, shirt and bandana was all he had on now. Whereas Rowdy was still fully dressed, apart from his vest.

He sighed.

“Was goin’ to have a swim, anyhow. I suppose it’ll all amount to the same thing.”

Rowdy raised his eyebrows.

Gil supposed Rowdy was surprised because he didn’t usually join them when they were messing about in a river. He always felt as if at least someone should be dressed enough to deal with any emergency, and it just always seemed to be him.

They played on, and Rowdy listened to each explanation of why Gil would have discarded different cards, and tried to remember how the odds stacked up depending on how many people were playing.

As it was, with just the two of them, Rowdy found he was losing far less, and also getting better as the hands went on.

Gil sighed as he lost again. He had already removed his shirt - as had Rowdy. But he didn’t have the advantage of wearing chaps.

He stood and pulled open his pants, shoving them down his thighs.

Rowdy giggled, then clamped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide.

“What?” Gil asked, sharply.

“Just…didn’t expect them to be red, I guess,” Rowdy said, once he’d swallowed down the laughter bubbling in his throat.

Gil glanced down. He’d forgotten, to be honest. He usually wore the same off-white long johns as most of the other drovers, but he’d changed the other day to some he’d picked up last time he was in Philadelphia, sick of the feel of sweaty, dirty cloth on his skin. That was why he’d wanted a swim so much - the heat recently had been oppressive.

He didn’t suppose people saw each other’s underwear much in Philadelphia.

 

Sitting down cross-legged again he picked up the cards and dealt, and sort of hoped he’d lose. That way he could go down to the lake, get naked, and satisfy both the bet and his desire to cool off.

He waited for Rowdy to discard.

And waited some more.

Then realised Rowdy’s gaze was not entirely on his cards.

Gil smiled, seeing the opportunity for some revenge. Then stretched out, lying on his side, head propped on his hand, as if bored of waiting.

Rowdy’s attention was now very much not on his cards.

“So?” Gil asked. “Want me t’show you what I got?”

Rowdy’s tongue slid out, swiping over his lower lip.

“Or want to show me what you have?” Gil smiled.

Rowdy’s Adam’s apple bobbed.

“I…think…I wanna see what you got,” he said, voice wavering slightly.

Gil laid his cards down.

Rowdy managed to drag his gaze to them, then frowned.

“You…lost,” he tipped his own cards down, showing a pair.

“Maybe that’s just how I wanted it.”

 

Gil had intended to wander down to the rocks, finish undressing, then slip into the cool water.

Bit he felt like getting his own back on his shameless ramrod. So he knelt, gathering the cards, then moved fluidly to his feet, before sliding his long johns down his legs, pulling them free of his feet, and confidently striding down toward the water.

He didn’t look back as he climbed onto a rock, stretched his hands up, and dived into the lake. The water was startlingly cold compared to the sun-baked rocks. But he swam underwater for a way, the feeling of the coolness caressing his body very welcome after so long on the trail.

When he broke the surface of the water again, some way from the shore, and panting for breath, he looked back.

Rowdy was standing by the lake, still wearing his long johns and socks, looking confused.

“Come on in,” Gil called. He took a mouthful of water and spat it above him like a fountain.

Rowdy stripped, almost falling in in his haste to remove his clothing, then slid into the lake.

Gil had slowly swum over, and ducked under the water to pop up next to Rowdy, swiping his hair back from his face as he did so.

“Feels good, don’t it?”

Rowdy stared.

“Cool water, washin’ away all that trail dust.” He floated on his back, eyes closed. He knew Rowdy hadn’t moved, the water remaining perfectly still.

He opened his eyes. “You okay?”

Rowdy’s gaze guiltily jumped to his face, from where it had been focussed - considerably lower on his body.

“I…”

Gil stood, toes sinking into the silky sand. The water came to just above his waist, and he splashed some up over his chest.

“Likin’ what you see?” He asked.

Rowdy swallowed twice, then nodded in a jerky movement.

“Me too.”

He didn’t even have the chance to move before Rowdy launched himself, and staggered backward as he found himself with an armful of naked ramrod.

His face was grabbed between two strong, calloused hands, and he was kissed.

He relaxed as soon it was obvious Rowdy wasn’t out to drown him, and slid his own hands around Rowdy’s waist, anchoring them together. Exchanging kisses, a little tongue flicking out, tracing lips, sliding together.

It was obvious that certain bits of Rowdy were very, very, pleased at the turn of events. He almost smiled. Wasn’t that often he cared much on what other people thought of him, but it was kind of nice to feel like he wasn’t completely unattractive.

He kissed Rowdy again, then realised Rowdy’s eyes were open, and staring at him, wide and green and a little worried.

Gil smiled. “You…did want this?” He asked.

Rowdy nodded, mutely.

“But…I ain’t never…with…”

“You ain’t too old to pick it up,” Gil grinned, then slid his mouth down Rowdy’s neck, over his chest, licking and sucking up water droplets as he went, before taking a deep breath and ducking his head under, guiding his mouth to Rowdy’s cock.

Rowdy’s buttocks clenched under Gil’s hands as took the tip of his cock into his mouth, and he breathed out slowly through his nose as he explored the hard flesh with his tongue, before finally coming up for air.

Rowdy’s eyes were still wide, his mouth hanging open, arms floating limply in the water.

Gil slid under the water again, and this time Rowdy’s fingers threaded lightly through his hair, tracing around an ear.

Under his hands he could feel Rowdy’s thighs quivering.

When he broke the surface again Rowdy was opening and closing his mouth like a fish.

“How’d…you…” Rowdy managed.

“Ain’t difficult,” Gil pulled Rowdy down into the water, feeling how hot is skin was where he’d been standing in the sun. “Jus’…imagine what you like, an…do it.”

Rowdy’s hand drifted over his stomach, fingertips mapping out his ribs, then his navel. Finally they ventured lower.

He closed his eyes and tipped his head back into the cool water as Rowdy explored, trying to keep some amount of self control.

 

The drifted into slightly shallower water by the rocks, and Gil finally pushed Rowdy’s hand away, wrapping him up in a hug instead, and neatly kicking his legs out from under him so he floated on his back.

Rowdy groaned as Gil licked up the underside of his cock, where it lay hard on his stomach. He grabbed onto Gil’s arm.

Gil smiled, and continued his work. Rowdy kicked his feet a few times, as if trying to get purchase. Gil moved from teasing to sucking Rowdy’s entire length, his hand caressing the soft balls below, feeling them draw up as he worked.

Rowdy began panting out half-words, fingers digging into Gil’s forearm. Small splashes of water leapt up when he jumped.

Then a strong hand landed on the back of Gil’s head, holding him down, Rowdy’s hips working to piston his cock in and out of Gil’s mouth.

There was a moment when Gil thought his lungs might burst. Then Rowdy came, flooding his mouth with the slight tang of bitterness, and he managed to gulp in a breath as the hand in his hair eased its pressure.

Rowdy was gasping for breath too, and had a look of total surprise on his face. He stood up, staring at Gil, then very slowly moving his hand to his cock as if checking what he’d just experienced was real.

 

Gil cupped his own erection, for entirely different reasons. He felt as if he was about to burst, the sight of Rowdy’s body, a pink flush around his neck, his chest still heaving for breath. There was even a pulse point, glistening on his neck, beating wildly.

“You…” Rowdy said, sounding completely confused.

As his hand slid over his length Gil leaned back on a rock, and closed his eyes.

He felt the water lapping at his shoulders as Rowdy moved.

A finger traced over his lips, and Gil couldn’t help but smile. He darted his tongue out and licked it.

Then a hand returned to his chest, sliding downwards with much more purpose. He kept his eyes closed, sensing that Rowdy would be more comfortable if he wasn’t being watched.

Long fingers joined his, awkward at first, with the angles, then settling.

He’d assumed, at the beginning of…whatever was going on now, that Rowdy had done this before. He seemed so at ease in his own skin, almost more so with the men than he ever did with the women he met.

But Rowdy’s reactions, his tentative touches, he hadn’t been expecting that.

Nor was he expecting the mouth that crashed against his own, as the rhythm of Rowdy’s hand increased, tangling their fingers together. He was held back against the rock, completely trapped. Rowdy seemed to surround him, one hand on his cock, the other gripping the back of his neck, pressed them together.

Rowdy somehow managed to bite his bottom lip, and he came, hard, panting into Rowdy’s mouth, feeling as every bone in his body had turned to jelly.

When he finally opened his eyes, Rowdy was looking predictably pleased with himself.

 

Gil couldn’t help but smile. Then gave himself an efficient, short, wash, and climbed out onto a large, flat rock, water sluicing from his body. He offered his hand down to drag Rowdy up, then lay down. The rock was too hot, after the water, but he figured he could always swim some more, after a rest.

Rowdy managed to shake more water over him before he settled too. Then began talking.

Gil supposed it was okay. He didn’t want to fall asleep in the sun and wake up burnt. And there was little chance of sleep when Rowdy wanted to talk.

A finger prodded his ribs. “What’s that from?”

Gil didn’t need to open his eyes. “Bayonet.”

The finger traced down the shiny white line.

“This?”

He paused a second. “Don’t remember.”

Rowdy gave him a look for that answer, but didn’t push. Gil was glad. He remembered all too well.

“Hey!” Rowdy’s arm came down hard on his belly, making him grunt, as something suddenly caught his eye and he leant over Gil’s body. “What’s this?”

“A mark,” Gil supplied, unhelpfully.

“It’s…” Rowdy’s finger rubbed over his skin on his thigh, hard.

“Ow,” he complained, slapping the hand away.

“G and M. Your girls?”

Gil nodded.

“And a star.”

“Star of Texas,” Gil agreed.

Rowdy traced his finger over it. 

Gil knew it was poor work, dark grey now, fading at the edges. A lopsided star and badly rendered initials.

“You get it to remember ‘em?” Rowdy asked, resting his chin on Gil’s chest, looking up at him.

“No,” Gil rolled his eyes. “I ain’t gonna forget my girls. Got it cos a fellow come ‘round the camps. Said it was easier to identify a body if it had some…mark. So men got ‘em. Names of their sweethearts, pictures. I got that.”

“Oh.” Rowdy looked down again, and Gil couldn’t help but do the same.

A grey smudge on the outside of his left thigh, sloping upward. He didn’t even think about it any more. He remembered the day he’d got it though. They’d already tasted battle. He had no thoughts of heroism any more. It had just seemed practical. He didn’t want Lizzy and the girls wondering what had happened to him. Wondering if he’d just used the war to escape commitment, like some.

“Thought’d it be like…some nice reason.” Rowdy looked back at him.

“Sorta was.” He shrugged, then put his hand on Rowdy’s shoulder. “I jus’ didn’t want to leave ‘em wondering, if I didn’t come back.”

Rowdy gave a small huff. “I don’t think that’s very nice, thinkin’ you ain’t going to live.”

“War weren’t very nice,” Gil countered. “Not for them in it, nor them waitin’ at home. Least I could do was help with the waitin’.”

Rowdy nodded at that, silent.

 

“Come on, I’m gonna go red,” he gave Rowdy a shove, and they both plunged back into the cold water, the sadness at old memories forgotten in the splash of water, turned golden by the setting sun.

Once they got back to the herd they gave everyone the good news, and men whooped with joy at Rowdy’s description of cool crystal waters, deep enough to swim in properly.

That evening they gathered around the camp fire as usual, Rowdy in his customary position at Gil’s side, although, Gil reflected, possibly even closer than usual.

“So,” Pete produced a pack of cards from his saddlebags. “Anyone want to play a few hands?”

Gil shook his head. “Not for me.”

“Rowdy?” Pete offered.

Rowdy shook his head. “No, I ain’t bothered.”

“Afraid you’ll lose…again?” Pete asked.

Rowdy stretched his legs out, and glanced at Gil.

“Oh, I dunno, Pete, I kinda feel like last time maybe I won, after all.”

Pete pulled a face, and moved on to ask others if they wanted to play.

Rowdy grinned at Gil.

Gil couldn’t help but smile back.


End file.
